


Force of Nature

by mjonesing (klassmartin)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, I'll probably add more tags when I finish it, Most MCU characters appear briefly, Multi, Roommates, Spideychelle Week 2020, but I did anyway because I'm a mess, elemental powers, the angsty soulmate au set in a universe I made up that absolutely no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/pseuds/mjonesing
Summary: A world at war. A family torn apart. A move that could save them all.At the core of a life powered by the elements is the soulmate bond - but it’s been over a decade since the last recorded pairing, and Michelle’s too busy getting ready to join the fight of her life to care about such trivial matters.How was she to know that stealing Flash’s seat would crash her destiny right into Peter Parker’s?
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 40
Kudos: 41
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	1. Michelle's First Day

**Author's Note:**

> literally yesterday I was like, 'I've got a thing for the other prompts but I'm not done so I'll post it eventually'  
> CUT TO  
> I was too excited and figured it would give me a kick up the butt  
> I do have a bit for the roommates prompt in a few days already done so I'll be posting that and then... I gotta work on it some more. BUT I WILL FINISH IT I SWEAR

"Mom? Mom! Where are you?"

She's coughing, gagging on the taste of soot and dust. Rubble scrapes at her skin as she crawls through what used to be the entryway of their house. There's a shattered photo frame, three smiling faces frozen in time, lying next to the splintered remains of the coat rack. She grabs at the red fabric peeking out from beneath it and wraps the scarf around her face, making her way further into the house. Smoke billows through the archway leading to the kitchen and she hesitates, tries to peer inside without getting too close to the flames.

"Mom?"

And then she hears it.

She stays low and rushes in, following the sound of her name being yelled until she finds the source.

"Michelle! Michelle, I'm here!" Fire rages just feet away but she barely feels the heat lick at her skin, rushing to her mother's side.

"Honey, you need to be brave for me, okay?" Vanessa cups her daughter's face, swiping at the tears that soak into the scarf. "You need to get your brother and get to the bunker, quickly now."

"I'm not leaving you!" Michelle scrambles closer, trying to get a closer look at the support bean pinning Vanessa down at the waist. She grapples with it, trying desperately to lift it, but her eleven year old strength isn't capable of much besides determination. "Mom, please."

But her mom just shakes her head, shouting now to be heard over the blaze. "Find your brother, he should be close." When Michelle doesn't move, she yells, "Now! Go, Michelle!"

There's an almighty crack above them and debris rains down on them, first a little, but with another shake in the foundations the last of the structural integrity gives and everything falls, falls, falls…

Everything goes black.

Michelle wakes up with a start, sweat clinging to her skin as the first rays of sunlight pour into the room. Her surroundings are unfamiliar and it takes a while to get her bearings; the room is very small, just a single bed and drawer unit. The décor is bland - walls white, carpet a deep shade of green. She forces herself up and makes the bed, heads to the small sink and toilet tucked behind a dividing wall. After splashing water on her face, she looks into the mirror and takes in the dark circles under her eyes, the long tangle of curls still pulled back in a tight braid.

Her uniform is easy enough, mostly simple clothing that a woman she'd forgotten the name of had pressed into her hands the day before, and she forces her tired limbs into it. Next is breakfast, a thought that makes anxiety swirl in her stomach. She'd memorised the map of the base last night and knows she can't linger, but walking into that room with all of those people for the first time just makes her feel sick.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

When she walks into the canteen it's busy, a congregation of every teenager registered to Prep who are all talking at once. She walks gingerly around the outskirts of the room until she reaches the serving station, grabbing oatmeal and fruit before scanning the student ID registered to her smart watch. She spots a reasonably empty table in the corner and heads over to it, pulling out the tablet from her backpack to read over her schedule, mostly to keep her busy.

Her first class is Technology, something that would have intrigued her five years ago. Now she's just impatient for the training session before lunch, but she knows that to get to where she wants to go requires learning the basics.

Something in the air shifts, and she looks up to see a hundred pairs of eyes glancing her way, the noise level dropping as the groups begin to whisper.

Michelle rolls her eyes and finishes her oatmeal.

She's early to the Technology classroom, a wide space with several glass-topped tables occupying the center of the room. There's two boys talking up front with their professor - who has a bark far worse than his bite, according to her doctor. There's three or four stools littered around each table and she heads straight to the back of the room, picking the chair with the best overall view of the room.

"I wouldn't sit there, if I were you," someone says. She looks up from tucking her bag away to see one of the boys standing a few feet away, his brown hair buzzed very short, a scar cutting a four inch white line next to his temple on the left side. "Flash is very protective of his seat."

"Flash can go screw himself."

He regards her curiously when she crosses her ankles and pulls out the tablet again. When his silence lasts longer than fifteen seconds she looks back up and snaps, "What?"

"While I'm always delighted by anyone trying to take him on - really, it's great - I just want to give you a fair warning that he won't take this well."

"What's he going to do, fight me for me for it?" She rests her chin on the heal of her hand. "I'd like to see him try."

"Actually, he'll probably just annoy you to death." The other boy, a little shorter with dimples when he grins at her, approaches the table. "But I am loving this whole vibe you've got going."

People begin to filter into the room but Michelle barely notices, too busy trying to find a way out of this conversation. "I'm Ned Leeds, by the way," the shorter boy says. "This is Peter Parker."

She considers them, trying to work out whether it's worth learning their names. They seem nice enough but they don't know who she is yet, and she knows from experience that tends to change people's approach. Still, she supposes it's worth at least trying to find some friendly faces, so she sighs and introduces herself. "Jones."

No raising of the eyebrows, no gaping mouths, no flinching. Huh.

"Hey, you're in my seat." Someone else approaches, presumably this 'Flash' character, knocking into Peter's shoulder. Great, doing well at trying to fly under the radar here.

Michelle fixes him with her coldest stare, her teeth clenched, hands curled into fists.

To his credit, Flash lasts a good fifteen seconds before surrendering. He mutters something about bad blood as he skulks off, but she doesn't get the chance to respond because Professor Fitz slams a thick file on his desk and the room settles into silence. Peter and Ned rush into the seats left at her table, typically, and Fitz looks around the room with an air of general disinterest.

"If we're all quite finished, let's get on with it, shall we? This is your second week with the holotable and the beginning on your class project." Fitz presses a hand to his desk and then lifts it quickly into the air, a simple hologram of the base exterior beamed up in front of them. With a flick of his wrist, the image rotates on an axis. "Your team have six weeks to give me an accurate, working model. Remember the nuances of the system we discussed in the last class. Your information packs will be available on your network and for elemental's sake, please read it before asking me any ridiculous questions."

"Six weeks, sir? How are we supposed to finish something this advanced in six weeks?" A girl from the front table asks, a distressed wrinkle between her eyebrows.

"Thank you, Horowitz, for that example of a ridiculous question. Information packs! Go!" Fitz approaches her table, tapping the table top three times before speaking to her. "Jones, I know you've missed some sessions but you've also managed to team yourself up with perhaps the only group who can actually achieve this."

"Aw, thanks, sir," Peter says with a smile.

"I was clearly talking about Leeds." Fitz points to Ned, who looks unbelievably proud of himself. "Catch her up and impress me."

When Ned seems incapable of responding, Michelle says, "I'm sure he's capable of that. I mean, how hard can it be?"

Ned and Fitz both look at her incredulously before laughing. "Yeah, okay, Jones. While we're at it, maybe we could solve the Hodge conjecture."

This time, all three of them laugh, and Fitz walks away to take a seat at his desk.

"It's fine, Jones. I've got you." Ned reaches to the side of their table and suddenly it lights up, a welcome screen surrounded by little icons that mean nothing to her. "What's your experience with holographic engineering?"

She blinks quickly. "I'm going with a solid zero."

Ned blanches and Peter claps a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, don't worry, you're a great teacher. She'll pick it up in no time."

"I thought all the bases had holotables now!" Ned still looks sufficiently upset. "How is this your first time seeing one?"

"I've been busy," she hedges, crossing her arms across her chest. "Can we stop insulting my intellect and instead get started? I'm a fast learner, just show me what funny gestures I have to do."

Peter pulls out his tablet and taps quickly at the screen, then flicks his finger up. A file opens on the table labelled 'Introduction to Holographic Engineering', a collection of text and images and notes scribbled in a messy handwriting. "I've still got my notes saved from last year, we can work through it systematically."

Ned sighs. "Okay. Crash course in the holotable. Let's do this."

***

Michelle walks into the training area with a significant headache but a beginner's understanding on the mechanics of the holotable.

"Hey, Jones." Peter approaches her from the side lines of the gym as she rolls out some of the tension in her shoulders, a friendly smile on his face.

"I see they just let anyone in here," she says dryly, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, it's like it's first year of Prep or something." He rocks back and forth on his feet as she fiddles with the end of her braid, shaking her legs to start the blood flowing. "Actually, we're pretty lucky with our tutor this year. Romanov doesn't usually do drills with the lower class. She's pretty intense, but don't let that scare you."

"It doesn't," Michelle replies easily, straightening a little more as the teacher comes over to them, her short red hair bouncing with her jog.

"'Jojo, it's so good to see you." Natasha Romanov wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into a quick hug. "Sorry I didn't make it to your room yesterday. Did you settle in okay?"

"Jojo?" Peter asks.

Michelle ignores him. "Yeah, it's okay. Only temporary until next intake; then I'll be in the dorms."

"We're gonna have a proper catch up on your trip tonight, okay? Get the gang together again." Natasha gives her another squeeze before turning to a perplexed Peter. "Parker, rally the team."

"Jojo?" he asks again, but when Natasha gives him a look he jogs to the other side of the gym, where several mats have been laid out, calling out to gather their classmates.

"Give 'em hell, sweetie," Natasha says with a wink, and then her expression fades into the one Michelle has grown increasingly familiar with in recent years; it's when she means business.

Natasha has them take a seat on the mat to begin, staring sternly down at them with her feet apart. "Due to last week's fiasco, I have the pleasure of giving you the responsibility speech. It's not something I thought I'd have to deliver to a room of sixteen year olds - a team I thought were mature enough to act in the decent way that is expected of any Prep student - but here we are, wasting precious training time."

Natasha claps her hand, then holds them out to the class. "Who can tell me the first thing we learn in life?"

"The four elements," a few of the students reply.

"Thank you. The four elements; Air, Earth, Fire and Water. They are at the very core of life itself, sustaining us, providing for us. And when we hit puberty, they protect us. They let us control them. Their power is a gift." Natasha closes her eyes and, in the palm of her hand, a tiny tornado whips through the air around her. When she closes her hand, the wind halts. "This is not a gift we can take lightly. It is not a fun little magic trick, or a game. Treating it as such is what divides us from the Others - the people who want to use it to destroy, to conquer, to seek more power. We choose to work with the elements, and in this class you will learn to use it so that one day we may have peace."

Natasha paces before them, a downward curve to the line of her lips as she looks over the crowd. "Next question, what is the second thing we learn about the elements?"

The class is quiet for a moment before a boy with a shock of white blond hair raises his hand hesitantly. "They give us soulmates?"

Michelle rolls her eyes. She's always disliked the idea of soulmates, a force apparent hidden in the core of the elemental power. In the books and the movies there's always two desperate people trying to find their other half, and it's just a glance; a touch; a shared moment of connection. They know it in the core of their being and everything is perfect and simple and they all live happily ever after. The idea of her soul somehow not being ‘complete’ - there being a piece of her missing - makes something in her blood boil. How is she not enough by just being Michelle?

Peter, sat a few people over on her left, cuts in, "She's talking about the marks."

"Yes, Parker." Natasha pulls up her sleeve until they can see her mark, a black triangle with a line drawn through the top; the same as Michelle's. "I want you to look at your marks now. Study them. This mark represents the element that has chosen you. You've spent the last few years learning to understand what you have been given, but for the next two you will learn how to harness it, to strengthen it, to seal the bond between you and your element. It is our responsibility to use these gifts carefully, and those who can not abide by this will not finish Prep and go on to service their community. Am I clear?"

A generally agreeable murmuring comes from the crowd and Natasha nods shortly. "Alright, now get up and start sprints for making me have to say that. Slowest gets to towel down the mat after we run strategy drills."

The group jump into action and Michelle spends twenty minutes running at full pelt up and down the gym, enjoying the hum of the air as it passes her. She think she'd probably enjoy it even if there wasn't a direct link to her powers; there’s something peaceful in how her heart pounds, the air whispering to her as she slices a path through it.

By the time they gather for the strategy drills, she's raring to go, eager for something that will finally be familiar after days of being lost in change.

Natasha encourages them to pair up and before she can consider it, Peter appears at her side, his skin glistening with sweat, his cheeks a little flushed. "Partners?"

She watches him run a hand over his cropped hair and spots his mark; the water symbol. "I was going to ask Flash, but I think I've scared him off, so I suppose you'll do."

Peter grins and they head over to a suitable space. "I don't think I've ever seen him intimidated by someone, and I've known him since we were five."

"People don't tend to find me very amicable." Michelle fiddles with the tape wrapped around her knuckles. "You wanna take defense?"

"Sure." He puts his arms up and Michelle mirrors him, spreading her feet, hands curled into fists. "You saying people don't like you much?"

Michelle shrugs and jabs toward his shoulder, a move he easily skirts.

"You seem alright to me."

Michelle pauses to frown at him. "Really?"

He gives a half hearted shrug.

"Oh." Michelle takes up her stance again and aim, left right left. Peter dodges right and ducks. "That's uh… Thanks, I guess."

"I get the feeling," Peter begins until he has catch himself from tripping over the foot she aims his way, "I get the feeling people aren't nice to you that often."

"I get the feeling you're enjoying this, Parker."

Peter scoffs. "A little bit, but I also know you're holding back, Jojo."

She smirks. "I didn't want to embarrass you just yet. And don't call me that."

"Come on." He beckons her forward. "Give me your best shot."

And she does.

And maybe that's why she doesn't notice it at first, too busy taking him straight down to the mat to register that tug in her chest, the tingle of something powerful in her extremities.

Maybe she just doesn't want to believe it; that she's sixteen and has somehow, inexplicably found the one thing she never wanted to find.

Maybe. Who knows.

She's too busy introducing her fist to his nose.


	2. The Friendly Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is it already over half way through? I'm not even remotely caught up with everything being created! That's what I get for taking the day off writing and then accidentally taking the day off of the internet.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> For the 'Roommates' prompt for Spideychelle Week, I present...

"I thought the plan was to fly under the radar."

"It was. It _is_." Michelle stabs at her lunch with a fork, resolutely staring into the mixed leaves. "I was just tired, and I had a headache, and this boy told me to stop holding back so… I did."

It should be noted that she didn't break Peter's nose, but it's been a week and he still has a rather impressive black eye. He had taken the hit far better than she'd expected; they'd actually continued sparring for about ten minutes before Natasha had ordered him to medical. And then - in a continuing trend of bizarre events, - Ned had found her at lunch and high-fived her for it, before continuing to educate her on the holotable.

Her mother tugs at the section of hair she's re-braiding. "He seems like a nice boy, and he's been helping you out. Perhaps you could be friends with him."

"He's only helping me out because his success in Tech is directly linked to mine."

"I know he's invited you to join in with that friend of his in multiple classes." Michelle looks up and back to see Vanessa quirking her eyebrow. "We teacher's talk."

"Speaking of, the whole reason I snuck in here is to find out how you're doing."

"I'm the mom here, you don't need to be worrying about me." Vanessa secures the hair tie at the end of the plait and Michelle twists around to better see her.

"It's your first time going back to work in five years, forgive me for being curious."

"And I'm just as capable now as I was then."

"Have you spoken to Stark yet?" Michelle groans when Vanessa just busies herself putting away the hair brush and cream. "Mom, he's the reason we're here! You said you'd talk to him!"

Vanessa wheels back to her and gives her a firm look. "Michelle, I know you have an issue with this wheelchair, but I do not. We are here because Nat wanted to continue your training. Plus you needed a fresh start, after everything."

"I don't have an issue with your chair, I have an issue with the fact you have better options and you're not pursuing them! Stark is the reason Rhodes -"

"I'm not having this argument with you, Michelle. We're supposed to be enjoying our lunch together."

Michelle takes her mother's hand and lays her head in her lap, forcing herself to focus. "I know, I'm sorry, Mom."

But her temper continues to fester for the rest of the day until classes end and she's finally free to go to the outdoor training space, blissfully quiet as people begin to head to dinner. She pulls off her shirt, the heat still sticky as the sun begins to set. Once she's stretched out her limbs, she eases first into a jog, then a run. The increased exposure to the air helps to settle the frustration as her feet pound against the track, and she relaxes into a steady pace, letting the elements aid her in finding her centre.

She runs until the muscles in her legs burn and the sky is painted fiery shades of orange and red.

She knows she should head inside but her connection with the air thrums beneath her skin. It's almost unbearable, so she heads to the targeting area and enters her specifications, waits for the green light to signal it's ready for her. A range of targets move slowly, side to side, at varying distances. The power crackles in her palms and she closes her eyes, counting to three before beginning.

The first three targets she aims for go down in seconds. The force of the air makes it blur but she concentrates to see through it, missing the fourth target by inches but hitting it on her next try. Two more are a perfect hit, the third slipping out of range. She perseveres, pushing it harder with the emotions still trying to overwhelm her. One by one, she succeeds in clearing the space, using both hands to aim at the last one with a concentration of power.

When the light goes red she stands down, tapping at the screen of her watch, pursing her lips. Her heartrate is too high, but that's what she gets for letting the use of her powers get personal.

"That was pretty awesome. You're all about pressure, right?"

Michelle drops into a defensive stance, hands raised and ready, only to see Peter with his hands up in surrender, a paper bag tucked under his arm.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," she snaps, relaxing her position. "What do you want, Parker?"

He takes a few steps closer as she reaches down to grab her water bottle. "Uh, I… You weren't at dinner, and there's a council meeting in a bit so you won't be able to get anything later."

When she straightens back up, she sees his eyes snap away from the exposed skin of her shoulder. He thrusts the bag towards her guiltily. "Thanks," she says, taking it and putting it into her backpack. "I didn't know about a meeting."

"Probably just a glitch in the system, since you're a late starter." Peter nods to her watch and she flicks to check her notifications; sure enough, there's an alert from a few hours before. "Do you… do you want to go? Now you're in Prep you can attend… See what it's like."

"I'm good," she replies, knowing her mother will update her on anything important. "Don't let me keep you, though."

Peter leans against one of the support beams, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He's changed out of his uniform into a baggy pair of jeans and a shirt at least two sizes too big. Michelle grabs her vest and tugs it over her head, pulling her braid from the neck as she observes him looking at her shoulder again.

When he realises she's caught him he blushes. "Sorry."

"It's okay." She shrugs, used to it by now. "We all have scars."

Peter touches his own with a grimace. "Yeah, but some are more impressive than others."

"Ah." She approaches him, throwing her bag onto her back. "So you _do_ know who I am."

He stands a little taller, something soft in his expression. "Sure, I've heard the stories. Doesn't mean I know who you are."

She scoffs, brushing past him to heard back into the base. "That was very cheesy."

"I just mean that, I know you've only been here a week, but…" Peter falls into step beside her. "You're clearly more than your past."

She glances at him, tries to swallow down the sudden lump in her throat. "Okay, that time was… Kinda sweet."

"I know you have your whole Meg from Hercules thing going on," he continues, "But, if you want, tomorrow, there's space at mine and Ned's table."

Michelle stops in her tracks, Peter spinning around when he realises he's lost her. "Are you… Are you asking me to be your friend?"

He gives her this lopsided smile that actually makes her consider it. "I'm saying you don't have to eat alone. One of the most important things about Prep is learning to work as a team, and, I don't know - Ned thinks you're pretty cool."

A smile threatens to break across her face, but disappears when she realises she wants to know what he thinks.

"Besides," Peter says as he shrugs his shoulder, looking up at the first twinklings of the stars. "You punched me in the face, so you kinda owe me."

* * *

"Leeds, Parker, Jones - let's see if you can manage to redeem us from the abysmal performance of your peers."

Michelle opens the file and taps the desktop, snapping her hand up so the model lifts into the air. Murmurs make their way round the class as they all look at the finished assignment; a to-scale replica of the base exterior, that she rotates to show off the 3D detailing they'd worked on last night.

Fitz gives it a cursory once-over. "Your proportions could use some work, but it's adequate."

Michelle opens her mouth to object - she'd done the measurements herself, thank you very much - but Ned grabs her arm and pulls her back into her stool.

"He's always like this when Simmons leaves the base," Ned whispers. "Adequate is actually great."

"Simmons as in the doctor?"

"Yeah, they're soulmates," Ned replies excitedly, confusing her surprise for interest. "Can you believe it? They met when she came here to work on the medical applications for this very holo system, and she put in for a transfer three weeks later!"

"I didn't know there'd been any recorded pairings in the last decade."

"They were one of the last, only nineteen when they met." Ned sighs happily, resting his chin on his fist. "Can you believe it? We have three actual pairings on this very base!"

Peter leans over his best friend to talk to her. "Ned has a bit of a soft spot for love and the dying art of finding your soulmate, but if I keep talking long enough then Fitz will spot me and yell and distract him long enough that we can actually get on with -"

"If you're quite finished Parker, I'd like to get on with the class!"

Peter withdraws with a cheeky grin, nodding his head to Ned who is refocused on what they're supposed to be doing. Michelle hides her smile behind her hand, pretending to pay attention to whatever Fitz is talking about.

It's been five weeks since Peter had invited her to join them for breakfast, and despite some early resistance, she's settled into a nice routine with them. They're nerdy and get over excited about anything tech-related, and spend far too much of their time watching terrible movies in their dorm, but they seem to genuinely enjoy her company and she likes their unbridled enthusiasm. They eat meals together and sit with her in every class they share - she has the Sciences and Mathematics with Ned where he does little to dampen her persistent need to irritate their teacher, who happens to be her mother; she has English with both of them and quickly learns they need _her_ help; she trains with Peter every day, rarely trading to partner with anyone else. He keeps up with her the best and she likes the challenge he presents.

Despite starting off with a disadvantage, she's pulled easily to the front of the pack - she's in the top ten percentile of most of her classes, and is weeks away from achieving it in all of them.

It's been long enough that their peers seems to have stopped talking about her, and she's getting comfortable, like the hardship is finally behind her and now she can focus on being the best.

Unfortunately, that was never going to last for long.

Her watch buzzes in the middle of a take down with Peter a month later, and she twists his arm a little harder so he won't move while she checks it. She reads the message and looks across the gym to Natasha, who is already looking her way, talking quietly to one of the upper class Preps.

"I yield," Michelle says quickly, letting go of Peter to grab her towel and water bottle.

"You what?" Peter twists to see her wiping the back of her neck as she leaves the mat. "You never yield!"

"I have to go," she tells him over her shoulder, and before he can reply she's pushing through the gym doors, Natasha hot on her heels.

* * *

Peter finds her again later that night after the council meeting, leaving her mother's room. He's leaning on the wall outside, three mugs balanced in his hands as he talks into an ear piece.

She walks past him, too tired to do anything but head back to her room and sleep for seven to ten days.

"Gotta go," Peter whispers into the mic, rushing to catch up with her. "Hey, Jones! I made you tea."

"I'm not really in the mood right now, Peter. Can we talk about this another time? Or maybe never?"

He steps into her path, forcing her to stop. His gaze darts between both of eyes like he's trying to solve a riddle, but her patience is almost non-existent after the stress of the afternoon. She tries to side step him but he continues to block her. "You called me Peter. You've never called me Peter, before."

"I'm tired," she stresses, pushing him gently with the air so she can skirt around him, "I just want to go to bed."

Peter scrambles to keep up with her, his voice an octave too high. "Okay, see, about that -"

Michelle waves her watch in front of her room's keypad and the door slides open to reveal Ned grinning at her, standing in the middle of… Nothing.

"Surprise?" Peter says weakly.

Michelle counts to three and takes a deep, not-at-all-calming breath. "Where's my stuff?"

The two boys glance between each other in a game of 'Who's Going to Break It To Her?'

Neither of them move.

"Where is my stuff?" she says, louder and angry and thick with the tears beginning to burn behind her nose.

"We moved it," Ned squeaks out, cautiously stepping towards her. "To be fair, we did this before the meeting, so we didn't know about -"

"You moved it? How did you even get _in_ here?!"

"Ned hacked the key pad," Peter admits, scratching his scalp. "Funny story, so we -"

_"Bring it back!"_

Michelle stares at the ceiling to stop the tears from leaking out of her, and Peter puts down the mugs in favour of touching her arm. She flinches but the way it makes her feel settles her just enough to force the emotion back, and when she turns her attention back to them they're standing side by side, guilt clearly written across their faces.

"We thought it would be a nice surprise." Ned tugs at the hem of his shirt, swallowing thickly. "We knew that with intake coming up, they were going to move you into the dorms and -"

"- They usually try to assign you to rooms with people you get along with but we know you don't really know anyone -"

"- or _like_ anyone else, really, apart from us - we think - so -"

"- We spoke to the head of Prep and while they don't tend to mix the dorms there's not actually a rule against it -"

"- So he didn't have much of a choice, really. And obviously we checked with your mom that she was okay with it and she said she doesn't like you being out here by yourself in this wing, so she agreed and -"

"- We were going to ask you at lunch today but then you were gone and we didn't know why but we thought, hey, wouldn't it be cool to surprise her with this? We probably got a bit ahead of ourselves and _definitely_ invaded your privacy and didn't get your consent so we basically suck, but -"

The door slams, leaving the two of them to ramble by themselves.

Michelle storms to the Prep dorm rooms, flipping off Flash when he gives out a pained, "Hey!" as she knocks into his shoulder. She finds the room quickly - it's a path she's walked many times in the past few months - but the door is closed and the two idiots aren't here to open it for her.

She stamps her foot petulantly. How _dare_ they do this to her? Today of all days!

Then remembers what they'd said.

She waves her watch in front of the keypad, and it lights up green.

When the door slides open, she walks in to a room that she cannot possibly recognise, but it feels… Strange. They've moved the standard issue bunk beds into the corner of the room beside the window, the desk stuffed into the space next to it. The drawer unit sits opposite, and in the space between is her bed, a fresh set of sheets and some extra pillows to make it look cosy. On the wall above her head is a set of shelves filled with her books, a photo frame, and a string of lights hanging below to add warmth to the room.

This time she can't fight the tears, but she doesn't even try.

What they'd done was _wrong_ , and yet all she can see as she walks further in to the room is how hard they've tried for her. The room is much bigger than the one she's been staying in but it's still only designed for two, and yet they've managed to make space for her here as easily her as they did in their lives.

For the first time she realises that those two nerds haven't just become part of her routine, but are her friends; actual friends who care about her not being alone, or being assigned to a room with people she doesn't know, or feeling anything less than accepted for exactly who she is; despite everything that puts so many people off of knowing her.

When they come back, she's curled up in the beanbag hidden in the corner, traces of her tears still lingering but calm again, flicking through the pages of a book.

"I don't agree with your methods," she says sternly before softening, a genuine look of gratitude lighting up her face, "But this is probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Peter and Ned glance at each other. "We're sorry," they say in unison.

"Thank you," she replies, not just for the apology but for what they've done for her. Ned looks on the verge of hugging her and she's too drained for physical touch, so she crosses her arms and he steps back.

She offers him a smile and then turns her attention to Peter, who is looking at her with a mix of disciplined and… Something softer - maybe settled, like he's just solved that riddle.

She clears her throat and puts on her best haughty expression. "I believe I was promised tea."

Peter holds out one of the mugs and stares at it for a moment, steam beginning to rise from the surface. The ceramic warm in her hands when she accepts it, and she notices the print of a bird in flight around the side. She turns her attention back to the book so she can hide her smile behind the cover.

"We were going to put on a movie if you're interested, Jones."

She looks up to see Ned fiddle with the projector and Peter grabbing snacks from the box they keep under the bed.

"MJ," she says as she gets up, "My friends call me MJ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mjonesing on Tumblr if you wanna talk about how Ned is criminally overlooked in this fandom!
> 
> Thank you for your time and your comments!


	3. Grief in Three Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys. I did it. I finally managed to write chapter 3. BIG thank you to @tvfanatic97-2 on Tumblr for your delightful fic rec for this story, and inadvertently kicking my backside to buckle down and finish this off last night.   
> I have no idea how many words this is. Every chapter of this story will probably vary wildly in size and I'm not even sorry; the program I use to write doesn't have a word count and I prefer it that way.  
> I have about 98% less free time to write now so updates may be sporadic. Also, I do not have a beta and I've only edited this once instead of my usual edit-edit-edit-one-more-just-for-luck-edit so I accept responsibility for any and all spelling mistakes, grammar errors and incoherent messes.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING as this chapter is pretty heavy: anxiety attacks, several moments of death-of-a-loved-one, mild references to symptoms of depression, and tragic events with a high death rate.
> 
> After this I swear we get back to the action and soulmate stuff. Okay have fun, be safe, thanks for reading <3

The end of the year approaches and with it comes the nightmares.

"MJ," she hears as she comes to, gasping for breath, "MJ, you're okay. It's not real; everything is fine."

Crouched at the side of her bed is Ned, peering at her through the darkness, his hand stroking a soothing path up and down her arm. She has a firm grip of his shirt but he's not afraid - more concerned as he tries to calm her down.

"You with me?" he whispers, and she glances quickly to their roommate, facing away from them but still in bed, his breathing even.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm… I'm sorry for waking you, Ned." She forces her hand to relax and brushes out the crumples in the fabric. "I just had a bad dream."

"Don't apologise. It's okay." Ned gives her a supportive smile.

She's still on edge from the dream and barely awake, and she blames that for why she suddenly has a loose tongue. "This happens sometimes around this month, and with everything going on at Base 3… It's just a lot to process."

Ned tilts his head, something more sincere than pity in his eyes. "I figured. You were uh, you were talking about Damien."

She tries to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. "Oh."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Michelle shakes her head, tugging the duvet up to her chin to hide the trembling in her hands. "I'm okay, but thank you. I think sleep before the exam tomorrow would do us better."

Ned nods and gives her arm a gentle squeeze before saying goodnight, climbing up to the top bunk. Michelle flops over to face the ceiling, spreading her limbs like a starfish to encourage deeper breathing as she fights for control.

Next week will be the fifth anniversary of the day her brother died, a time that she's always struggled with; not just because of the grief from losing her older brother, but because she hadn't saved him. In the darkest moments she wonders how much Vanessa blames her for it - ignoring her pleas to find him, managing to save her enough to live a life stuck in a wheelchair when, maybe, she could have found Damien quick enough to have them both.

She's haunted by the brightness of her brother's smile that will never shine again, the way her mother's laugh never quite reaches her eyes. Damien would know, she thinks; he would know how to make her happy again; would know just what to say about Base 3; would know exactly how to fix everything. That's just who he was. A true Tsunami.

Something warm slides between her fingers and she turns to see Peter watching her as he links their hands. There's a pain in his eyes that, even in the dark, she knows matches her own.

She thinks of his scar and how he only ever talks about an Aunt, and how he pushes himself in training just like she does, and that thing in her chest that she's been trying to ignore begins to burn as she realises that he understands her more than she ever realised.

She rolls over and shuffles to the edge of her mattress so she's more comfortable, and eventually she falls asleep to the feel of his thumb stroking over the broken skin of her knuckles.

* * *

She thinks about Peter's scar a lot after that.

He doesn't talk about it and Ned is even less help, either avoiding the hints she drops or just missing them completely. There's no one else she feels particularly comfortable asking - alerting anyone to a possible interest in her training partner would only arise suspicion and that's _definitely_ not something she needs. Not when she doesn't really know the answer to any potential questions.

It's stupid, really. Her scars are known by the world, before she ever gets the chance to make her own impression. His seems to be considered unimportant or a secret to be guarded.

The anniversary of her scars passes in a blur of pushing too hard at training and eating grilled cheese sandwiches with her head in her mother's lap. She thinks about Damien the whole time, even though it makes his favourite food taste like cardboard; even though it means she's always crying; even though when she finally returns to her dorm late that night, Peter and Ned crawl into her tiny bed and hold one hand each as she whispers her favourite memories of him into the safety of the dark.

She doesn't sleep that night - never does, too overwhelmed with memories of flames and pain and screams - but Ned dozes at her feet and Peter lets her assault him with popcorn every time he snorts with laughter beside her. Instead of just the agony that twists at her soul, she feels something whispering against the edges of it; like a balm that has eased her suffering.

A kernel bounces off Peter's cheek and glances off Ned's nose, and the sleeping boy lets out a snore that sends her into a fit of laughter.

They're good friends, she decides. Damien would like them.

* * *

As one year ticks into another and the base joins in celebration, the opportunity to meet Peter's Aunt finally arises.

The Prep kids tend to party separately from the adults, but the three of them spend the evening with their own families until ten. Michelle finishes up with her mom and heads back to their dorm - the designated meet-up spot so they can head to the gym together. She's the first one there and busies herself swiping on the lipstick that Vanessa had pressed into her hand after twisting her hair back into a complex up-do that makes her scalp hurt. It's a soft plum that nicely compliments the grey blouse she borrowed from Natasha.

"Hey, no Peter yet?" Ned says as he finally walks into the room. He's a little out of breath and his hat is slightly askew. She puts down her tablet to straighten it for him, shaking her head. "Typical. This happens every year. We'll probably have to head over to get him if we want to make the countdown."

Michelle fiddles with the cuff of her blouse and Ned pauses to give her one of his trademark grins. "You look great."

"Thank you," she says, surprised. Ned holds out his elbow and she hesitantly slips a hand through it.

"How was dinner with your mom?" he asks as they exit their room.

"It was nice. Thanks again for asking your Grandma to cook for us; the Jones' never have been any good in the kitchen."

"No problem. I helped with the salad, you know."

"Oh, I could tell. It was amazing." They exchange grins and fall into an easy silence. Ned greets other Preps as they walk past and even stops in on a couple to lean through their open doors. The dorm wing is alive with excitement as the countdown draws ever closer, most ready to head to the party. The usual hush of Prep students ploughing through the mountain of work they're assigned is now full of chatter and the distant thump of music from their rooms.

This is, perhaps, what teenagers her age are supposed to be doing with their time - enjoying life instead of learning to fight for it.

They exit the wing and Ned's arm tightens around Michelle's hand, the comfortable atmosphere tainted by whatever thoughts have occurred to him. For a moment he stews in it. She extracts her hand to nervously link it with its pair, scratching at the hardened skin of her knuckles.

"I should warn you," Ned finally says as he leads her towards her a block she hasn't been to before, "This is probably going to be a lot to take in and if you're feeling overwhelmed at any point, just tap me on the shoulder and I'll try to get us out quickly, okay?"

"Why would I be overwhelmed?"

Ned stops in front of a keypad and presses against the screen several times. An elevator dings its arrival and they step inside, and he presses the button at the very top - the Base Leader's suite.

"Why are we going to see Pepper Potts, Ned?" she asks under her breath, like the elevator may hear her somehow. The quiet whir of machinery flows by outside the box that carries them up four floors. "What have you guys not been telling me?"

Ned shrugs, pointedly looking away from her. "Peter's definition of family is slightly less… Structured than ours. You have your mom, I have my Granny and Dad and my sister, and Peter has…"

The doors open to a cacophony of noise, streamers and balloons hung on every available wall space. A drone whizzes past them with a tray of champagne flutes. Musicians from long ago croon festive melodies and are almost drowned out by the buzz of conversation. It's bright and full of laughter and joy and there in the middle of it is their best friend, engaged in an arm wrestle with their base leader's soulmate, Tony Stark.

"Peter has this."

Ned loops his arm back around hers and pulls her into the chaos, waving at several people as they pass. She recognises some of them but not all, like their English teacher and a boy from their Tech class, and is that Natasha mixing drinks in the kitchen? She stumbles over her feet a little and immediately pats Ned on the shoulder in alarm, trying to tug herself free so she can run back to the elevator.

It's all too much - too much noise, too many people, too much she doesn't understand. It's like she's drowning, and Ned keeps holding her beneath the water as they get further into the space.

"Ned! Oh my goodness, is that the time already?" an older woman with laughter lines and a kind smile steps into their path, wrapping an arm around him while balancing a wine glass.

"Hey, Aunt May. Yeah I'm afraid so." Ned pats Michelle's hand where it's trapped in the juncture of his elbow. "This is MJ."

"Michelle," she hedges stiffly. May just smiles wider and holds out a hand to shake, her fire sign prominent against her pale skin.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you, sweetie. The boys talk about you all the time! I'm Peter's Aunt May."

Michelle raises her eyebrows and accepts the handshake. "Wow. It's uh, it's nice to meet you too."

"I'm sorry we haven't met sooner; Peter has been thoroughly scolded. How have you been settling in? I hope the boys haven't been too difficult to live with."

"Fine. They've been fine."

Michelle shifts on her feet. Meeting new people has always been a struggle and just because this one is also related to her friend doesn't make it any easier; in fact it's worse; she'd like actually to make a good impression but she doesn't know how.

Meeting Ned's family had been easy; his dad is a groundskeeper and she'd accidentally met him after a late night in the training centre when she first arrived, and his Grandma is the base's head cook who regularly serves up their meals. May is a whole different scenario and the lack of preparation for this moment is weighing down her tongue, down, down, until she can't say much at all.

"Give it up, kid. You're never gonna beat me."

"Best three out of five. I'm telling you, I've been training really hard! This is my year, old man."

May glances over her shoulder to where her nephew is wriggling his fingers in a challenge. She sighs. "I should probably break this up now, or you'll never make your party."

"Are you sure?" Ned edges closer, transfixed. "I'm sure waiting a few more minutes won't make too much of a difference -"

"Probably for the best. Don't want to miss the countdown." Despite Michelle's words she doesn't move a muscle towards them, her feet still pointed back towards the only decent exit she can make out.

"Peter! Tony! Let's stop the posturing and get going; we're running late again." May walks off towards the scene and Michelle immediately leans towards Ned, anxiety rushing through her veins as Peter glances their way and waves excitedly.

"What is going on?" she hisses.

"It's a Base 4 tradition," Ned explains in a whisper. "A lot of people here don't really have family to celebrate the New Year with, so Pepper and Stark open their home to anyone that needs it before the larger party at night's end."

She looks back to Natasha who seems perfectly at home, sipping a martini as she chats to a few off-duty fighters. When she turns to see Peter dodging a hair ruffle from his victor, she chews on her thumbnail and tries to wrap her head around everything. "Is that why Peter's so… Buddy-buddy with Stark?"

"Oh, uh, not really. May and Peter are actually the exception here; Pepper and Stark are basically family. Peter's Uncle Ben was partners with Stark and when Peter moved here, basically became another Uncle to him. They're all still super close. Morgan's only just learnt that Peter isn't her actual brother; cried for days, apparently."

It's the most information she's ever gotten on Peter's past and she absorbs it greedily, a thousand questions erupting in her brain as she tries to fit it into the puzzle she's forming of him. Why hasn't she heard of this Uncle Ben before, or his link to the base leader's family? When did Peter move here? Why did he move? 'Found' families are not uncommon in society; it's almost a given, eventually; the war coming at a high cost to most. Yet the haunted look in Peter's eyes that night runs on repeat in her head. How can such pain come from someone who appears so happy amongst all these people?

He's leaning into Pepper Potts as she hugs him goodbye and he laughs at something Hogan mutters, but then he catches her watching and sobers a little.

She takes a jilted step back. "Maybe we should just go without him. He's clearly having a good time."

"They'll all be heading downstairs in a few anyway." Ned turns to her fully, concern turning down the corners of his mouth. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says immediately, but when he puts a well-meaning hand on her arm she curls in on herself. "I'm fine, Ned."

"MJ, you're clearly -"

"Hey, sorry, I lost track of time." Peter suddenly appears at her side, a jacket thrown over his arm. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

A hand wraps around the fist at her side and she gasps as breathing becomes a little easier. Peter pulls her through the crowd, back to the elevator, Ned close behind. The people are a blur around her, just sounds and colours and heat. She presses her free hand to her chest and draws on her power to centre herself. Oxygen fills her lungs, her heart beat steadying to synchronise with the pulse beneath her fingertips.

Each step makes her feel better, and by the time they're inside watching the door close the pounding in her skull has dulled to just an echo of the moment before.

Peter twists sharply to face her, a hand hovering next to her face before settling on her shoulder. His eyes flicker between hers like he's analysing. She frowns and tries to put space between them but her back just hits the cool metal wall.

"What are you doing?" She meant to sound put out but her voice is too shaky to sound anything but scared.

He stares a little longer until he nods to himself. His hand slips down the thin fabric of her sleeve and brushes against her thumb, the hairs of her arm standing on end.

Peter tears himself away to look at Ned, who is watching the whole exchange with interest. "How was your dinner? I hope you've got leftovers for tomorrow; you know I'll mutiny if I don't get to experience Granny Leeds' black bean brownies."

"They're in the fridge," Ned says distractedly. Michelle is trying to collect herself enough to find her voice, and Ned offers her a tight smile in encouragement.

"MJ, you're going to love them," Peter continues as the doors slide open and they head towards the gym. "It's the best food you could choose as your first meal of the year. Unmatched by anything you've had before."

"Alright, dude, let's finish this year off first, yeah?" Ned bounces on his feet. "Our first Prep New Year! I can't wait to see the light show."

They walk into the room to see the other Prep kids already crowded inside. The equipment has been removed and instead there's a dizzying array of coloured lights flashing across the sea of the faces. There's more balloons and more streamers and the trampled remains of metallic confetti. The temperature is already building to stifling levels, sweat beading on the back of her neck. A heavy drum beat vibrates through her bones.

It's basically her worst nightmare, but Ned throws himself into the mess and Peter drags her with him by the cuff of her blouse.

Overall, it could be worse. She drinks punch that's too sweet and reluctantly dances to Ned's favourite songs and talks to a few people from her classes. When the countdown reaches its peak, she's engulfed by the arms of her best friends. They scream in her ear and jump around, and she rolls her eyes but lets herself be pulled about until they've had their fill.

It's well into the early hours when they finally go home, collapsing into a tangled heap between their beds eating almost stale cake.

She wakes up later that day from her spot leaning into Ned's side, Peter's head pillowed by her lap, and realises the feeling that's been stirring at the edge of her mind for weeks now: she's content.

* * *

Natasha twirls the knife effortlessly between her fingers, the silver glint of metal catching in the midday sun. "You better be ready, or this is going to really hurt."

"I'm ready," she says confidently, rolling back her shoulders and flexing her fingers.

Her mentor has on her cool teacher's mask but Michelle can tell she's nervous - they've never done this before and isn't something Prep students tend to attempt, but she'd pushed for it and Natasha know if she doesn't that Michelle would just find her own way - probably with an extra layer of danger involved. She's been fidgeting with the first knife for five minutes now and Michelle is almost at her wit's end in anticipation.

Natasha turns away from her. "I'm sorry, Jojo. I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's the best way to test my defences," Michelle argues, dropping her hands, " I need to know if I can -"

The blade slices through the air quicker than she could have possibly imagined. Michelle tenses, trying to dodge it instinctively, raising her hand to blast it with air to derail it from it's target of her chest. She's not quick enough; it creates a long but shallow cut through her uniform and the skin of her upper arm that makes her cry out, hand clutching her wound as blood seeps into the fabric.

"What was that?!" she seethes as she inspects it; she knows it won't even scar but the adrenaline still courses through her. The knife sits innocently at her feet and she kicks it away with a huff.

The shock wears off after a second and when she turns back to Natasha, there's another knife raised and ready, this one shorter but wider.

"You don't get to prepare yourself in battle, Jojo. The hits will come whether you're ready or not; it's how you react that will determine if you survive. Now tell me, what did you do wrong?"

"I wasn't ready for anything." Michelle wipes the smear of blood across her palm on the hem of her shirt. "And I didn't choose the right defence."

Natasha hurls the blade at her and Michelle grits her teeth as her power flares out in a pulse, knocking the knife from it's trajectory so it lands uselessly twenty foot away.

"Better." Natasha throws two this time; one after the other and Michelle watches satisfactorily as they bounce off her force, the second landing much further away. Within moments there's more coming her way and she hunches over with the effort to extend the pulses. She tries to use it to aim where the knife will land but the momentary lapse in concentration causes the blade to get a little too close to her throat before she manages to deflect it.

The stand at Natasha's side now sits empty and Michelle collapses to her knees as she finally relaxes, exhausted. It's the thing she's the least practised in and pushing herself so far takes its toll, but the memory of it once exploding from her always spurs her on.

Once, five years ago, this had saved her mother's life. Now, she wants to use it to save everyone else.

"You did good, Jojo," Natasha says softly as she bends down at her side. "But that's enough for today."

"No." Her hands curl into fists and she tries to catch her breath to speak coherently. "I can do better. We need to keep going."

"You're tired, and you're getting emotional. You know that's not a good recipe."

Michelle sits back in her heels, glaring at the redhead when she tries to touch her. "Being emotional is the exact thing that triggered it the first time. Maybe instead of always trying not to feel, I should be pushing myself to feel _everything_."

"The first time was an extreme scenario and the first indication of your power; you had no way to control it properly, which is why I found you so easily. Another Hurricane passing by may not have been as kind as I was." Natasha fixes her with a firm look and wind caresses the heat in her cheeks. "Go shower. Have a nap. Let yourself recover. We'll resume this next week."

"But -"

"If you argue with me, Michelle, I'll suspend your training indefinitely."

Her jaw snaps shut and she fumes silently. Natasha stands up to collect the littering of knives. Michelle takes a moment to roll the strain out of her shoulders before assisting her.

Deep down, she knows Natasha only has her best interests at heart. The woman has become more important than she ever could have guessed the first time they met. She's been a source of strength for the tattered remains of Michelle's family; a guide and a shoulder to cry on; a friend when the rest of the world turned away. Natasha is the best mentor she ever could have dreamed of, and despite Michelle's struggles she knows that Natasha is right; she can't keep pushing herself too far every time. She needs to learn control but it is not something she can rush into - this is why Prep takes two years. To give you the time you need so you're ready for what comes next.

Michelle presses the last knife into its case and turns to apologise, but Natasha's watch pings and her face goes pale.

"What's wrong?" Michelle asks, even though she's terrified of the answer. She's seen that face before. It never leads to anything but devastation.

Natasha barks orders for Michelle to go to her room as she rushes towards the management's offices. She obeys reluctantly.

There are floods of people rushing all around as she enters the main building. The emergency alert rings out in a shrill noise and, if that weren't enough of an indication, her watch vibrates persistently against her wrist, instructing her to enact lockdown measures until further notice. She heads straight to the dorm wing to find the hallways almost empty - an eerie sight for a place usually so full of life and noise. Now, there is only the nervous silence of her fellow students as they wait for further instruction.

Inside her room, she's met immediately by Ned's pacing form.

"What's going on?"

He glances to the empty bottom bunk and wrings his fingers. "A battle's broken out at Base 3. T'Challa's gathered the high council to discuss tactics."

"The Others actually attacked?"

"I don't know - Peter was with Pepper when the alert came in but he didn't pick up on much before they rushed to the war room. I bumped into him after they cancelled evening classes and he - He said it was bad, MJ."

"Where is Peter? Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"Aunt May asked for help. They're getting ready to send supplies, maybe personnel."

She goes to reach for her jacket. "Okay, so let's go help."

"It's too late, we won't be able to get past the shutters now." Ned takes in a deep breath. "Peter said it was best if we stayed here, anyway."

His word choice sends something ice cold up her spine. Michelle's hands tremble at her sides. "It's that bad? Are you sure, Ned? It's been years - how are they even -"

"MJ, calm down." Ned tugs her into his arms and holds her tightly. "I'm sorry I don't have answers but we'll find them out together, okay? We just have to be patient. That's all we can do right now until we know more."

He's right - of course he's right - and she clings to him all the more, trying not to let her mind spiral. Ned guides them to sit on her bed, shoulders pressed tightly together, and as minutes tick by with nothing but their thoughts to fill the time, his foot begins to tap erratically against the carpet.

Finally, she gets up to fetch the deck of cards from the shelf and holds them silently in offer. Ned's frantic energy welcomes the chance to give his hands something to do.

They play mindless card games for hours. Neither bother to keep score like they usually do; this is not about winning but about keeping a modicum of sanity.

It is this, she thinks as she plays her final ace, that is perhaps the worst part of war that she's known so far; the inability to do anything but wait.

* * *

The answer eventually comes with the agonised wail of her name.

"Jones! Where are you? Face me, for elemental's sake! _Jones!_ "

The once silent hallway erupts into noise as students emerge in curiosity. Michelle bolts to the door, ignoring Ned's plead to stay inside.

This is not the first time she has heard this kind of pain and it will unlikely be the last; still, she's not completely prepared to open the door to the fist of Flash Thompson, aimed directly for her nose.

The blast of pressure sends his fist high above her head and she deflects the weak right swing as Flash continues, undeterred.

"Flash, leave her alone!" Ned tries to push past her but she presses him back out of harms way, taking a knock against her temple for her trouble.

"You're going to pay, Jones." Spit flies from his mouth and he drags her by the collar into the fray as student begin to circle. He tries to throw her to the ground but she manages to retain her balance, waving off helping hands.

Flash charges for her and she plants her feet firmly into the ground, releasing a pulse gentle enough to deter his path without causing injury. He thrashes and punches and kicks and she deflects as many as she can while trying to keep other's back. Nervous eyes bounce between the action as they try to figure out what to do. Any aid is rejected and any attempt to hold back the desperate actions of a boy overcome with grief are swiftly rebutted.

Ned silently pleads with her from the sidelines. She shakes her head and ducks under Flash's fast approaching knuckles.

She doesn't need saving. She doesn't need intervention.

This isn't about her.

It's about Flash and his pain.

Smoke billows from his hands and before she can even blink, flames erupt against his skin. She yelps as the fire just misses her lower arm when she instinctively blocks his next hit. A nearby Tsunami manages to douse his fists from the side-lines and Flash almost screams in his frustrations.

Again and again, he attacks and she defends.

Her lip is split and her eye is swelling shut and she can already feel the bruises forming around her ribs.

In training, Flash has never managed to best her - now it's only been moments and she's struggling to stand.

"Flash, stop!" A figure charges straight past her and she blinks in surprise as Peter crowds into Flash's face, shoving him back by the shoulders. "This isn't the answer."

Flash pushes him right back. "You of all people, Parker? You're really defending her right now? How can you be friends with her after everything that happened to you?"

"She lost her brother too, Flash."

"Don't you _dare_ talk about my brother like it's same. He wasn't even supposed to be there!"

"Peter, it's okay -"

"Don't, MJ." He doesn't even turn to look at her, gaze fiercely fixed on the tear stained face of their peer. "You need to stand down, Flash."

"You need to get out of my way, Parker."

Peter barely stumbles back as he gets pushed again. Flash grits his teeth and tries to break past, but there are others now beginning to barricade him in. Ned appears at her side and does a quick examination of her visible injuries despite her attempts to brush him off.

"Leave me alone, I mean it," she says when he reaches for her.

"What was that?" Ned asks quietly instead, his voice dark. "I know you, MJ. You're the best fighter in the lower class. No way you can't take Flash down."

"He's hurting enough already," she hisses, and Ned goes to rebuff her but is deafeningly interrupted.

An ear-piercing whistle cuts through the noise and they turn to see Tony Stark staring back, his jaw clenched as he looks over the situation. His eyes linger on her for a second longer than the rest before he yells an order. "Emergency curfew has been declared. I want every one of you in your rooms in the next thirty seconds or I'm gonna start taking away privileges, starting with TVs and ending with the vending machines. Now! Get out of my sight!"

Prep students begin to slink away and Stark points at her. "You, Peter's overtly tall girl friend; med bay. Thompson, go find your mother. Using your fists isn't going to solve anything right now."

Flash slams into her shoulder as he heads to the exit and Ned keeps her upright when she stumbles. Peter steps towards her but stays put when she fixes him with a fierce look.

She doesn't need his help. She's doesn't need _anyone's_ help. She's always been perfectly fine all by herself.

She shrugs off Ned's hand and wraps an arm around her lower ribs, beginning her trek to the med bay alone. For just a moment though, she stops at Tony Stark's side to give him a firm reminder.

"My name is _Michelle_."

* * *

They lose 58 people. Eight of them, including Will Thompson, have family in the base.

Weeks pass in a sluggish mix of grief and confusion and hushed meetings behind closed doors. Michelle's fractured rib prevents her from training and she takes to camping out in her mother's room, lying in bed all day and doing her assignments remotely. Her friends stop knocking after a few days. She only goes back to the room to fetch what she needs when she knows they're stuck in class.

Her mother lasts a little longer. It takes a little over a week for Vanessa to give in and let her fester for a while.

On Day 19, Natasha orders her out of bed. When that doesn't work, she lies beside her and strokes her hair.

A week or so after that, she's forced out for a check-up at the med-bay. She's greeted by those kind eyes of May Parker.

"Hey, sweetie. How's it going?"

Michelle glances around the examination room. She's managed to avoid May every time she's been in since the fight, already familiar enough with Simmons that it was the obvious choice. She hasn't been in this room yet - it's small but the walls are a soft cream instead of the stark white she's seen on other bases, and there's posters and photos of animals and leaflets on a wide array of conditions littering several large corkboards.

She stares at the lopsided grin of a panting puppy and hopes May doesn't notice her lack of answer. She wouldn't know what to say anyway.

Undeterred, May perches on a stool in front of Michelle and gives her a smile she's all too familiar with despite her Parker name being from marriage and not blood.

In one agonising rush, the pit in her stomach that opened the moment she walked away from the fight without looking back grows ever wider. She'd pulled away because she was overwhelmingly sad and too proud to accept the help they'd tried to offer, and then she'd wallowed in her sadness because of the giant chip of her shoulder that her past had dealt. Now, when she thinks of Peter's smile and Ned's dimple and their baffling devotion to her, she misses the sensation that comes from having true friends.

She's spent weeks revolting against the contentment she felt around them, and only sees now how denying herself of that has made the Michelle she was finally becoming wither away to the empty shell of former years.

May's smile fades at the hitch in her patient's breathing. Michelle runs her fingers through her loose hair and claws back a moment of self-control.

"I'm fine."

The older woman nods thoughtfully and glances briefly at her most recent x-ray on her tablet. "Okay, honey. Well. Your rib looks good! You're healing quicker than we expected. Have the painkillers been helping?"

"A little. I stopped needing them."

"When?"

"Couple of weeks ago, I guess." May furrows her brow and Michelle studies the wisp of cobweb tucked into the far corner. "I'm used to pain."

"Oh." May puts down the tablet and sighs. "Of course, your previous injury."

"My scars," she amends. May asks her to lift the hem of her shirt and Michelle obliges, wincing slightly as her fingers probe the fracture from the outside.

"I'm going to recommend another week before you can return to training, and make sure you ease yourself back into it - nothing too vigorous, you've got plenty of time." May snaps off her gloves and disposes of them as Michelle lowers her shirt. She taps away at the tablet again and Michelle makes her way to the door, eager to be back in her mom's room and away from other people. "One more thing before you go, Michelle."

Pressing her forehead against the cool wood of the door, Michelle exhales softly. "Yes?"

"Tonight there's a memorial for Five in the central grounds. I think it would mean a lot if you were there."

Confused, Michelle turns to ask why when she sees the look on May's face.

She swallows around the lump in her throat. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely." May reaches out to squeeze maternally at her upper arms, that familiar smile returning. "I'll save you a space."

* * *

Michelle finds May again that evening, standing in the front of the crowd that has gathered as they wait for the ceremony to begin. The night air is mild for the time of year but Michelle still hugs her jacket tightly around her. May greets her in her gentle voice and shuffles back a step to reveal Ned standing at her other side, looking at her in surprise.

"You're here," he whispers as May steps aside to let them talk a moment.

"May said it was important." She scuffs her toe against the dew covered grass. "Also… I'm sorry."

Ned's surprise melts in a genuine smile. "Does that mean you're coming back?"

"If you'll both have me."

"Of course we will. You're our friend; we love you."

She doesn't know how to respond to that, so she curls her hand into the crook of his arm and huddles in close.

Pepper Potts steps up to the front of the crowd behind a podium, hush falling over the residents of Base 4. The breeze ruffles the delicate red curls of her hair and she brushes them aside to make eye contact with them all, breathing in deeply before beginning.

"We're gathered here today in memory of those lost a decade ago to the destruction of Base 5. Perhaps one of the cruellest events of our history, the hundreds of lives taken that day belonged to many good people and children who just wanted to live peacefully, the way the elements intended. Our battle for those ideals has been long and difficult, but our resilience is what fuels us. We honour their memories today in the hope that we will accomplish their dream."

From behind Pepper, a small group makes their way to the cleared space in the centre. Around their necks sit the emblems of the lost base, some older and some barely adults. They each stand beside a row filed with dozens of candles, holding lighters in their joined hands. A younger Inferno guides the flames until, one by one, each candle is lit; one for each person who died.

Everyone closes their eyes in a silent prayer to the Elements. Michelle's power tingles in her fingers.

As gentle as the breeze, something tugs inside of her chest. Her eyes lock with Peter's, standing beside the middle row with a tear slipping down his cheek. There it is again - that moment of understanding passing between them. In all the horrible ways she'd considered, never had she thought his pain came from this.

Michelle grips Ned's arm a little tighter as Pepper begins to speak again. She leans towards him to whisper in his ear. "This is what he wouldn't talk about? That he's one of the Children of Five?"

Ned nods grimly. "He doesn't like to talk about it."

"How…" She stutters as her eyes fill, still unable to look away. "How bad was it?"

He doesn't respond for a long moment, ducking his head as tears drip down his friend's faces in unison.

"His parents were in charge of the Sciences Division, so they were hit first. Peter was… He was in the school when…"

Michelle wipes at her cheeks and tears her gaze away. His grief still echoes through her, twisting violently in her gut until she wants to curl around herself. "They both died?"

Ned nods again, something worse than pain burning in his eyes. "He's one of the youngest survivors. His Aunt and Uncle were based here so he got reassigned after they were rescued from the wreckage."

Michelle turns to him fully now, remembering the mentioning of an Uncle from that night months ago, now. "His Uncle Ben, you mean? Where is… What happened to him?"

Ned's face clouds over, shaking his head tightly. "He died. Honestly, MJ, this isn't really my place. Peter should be the one -"

"Ned, please." He can't meet her eye and she tries to brace herself; she's seen many people's face twist in the way his does now. It is always followed by the same devastating blow. "I need to know."

"He was a fighter, highly regarded, a trusted advisor," Ned begins, reaching out to hold her hand. "Five years ago he was asked to investigate a possibly devastating information leak and he traced it back to -"

"Please don't say Base 7." Michelle looks away before Ned can confirm what she already knows, watching Peter as he mouths his own prayer to himself, dark eyes on the fire in front of him. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Ned? Did… Are you saying my father killed Peter's Uncle?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can tell how tired I am clap your hands *clap clap*
> 
> Let me know what you think! And if this is actually coherent. I'm gonna go plot out the next chapter and wait impatiently for your opinions.
> 
> mjonesing on Tumblr if you wanna talk about how I just wrote a whole chapter of a Peter/MJ fic with very little Peter. I LOVE NED OKAY I WANTED TO SEE HIS BOND WITH MJ FORM PROPERLY RATHER THAN IN THE BACKGROUND.
> 
> Actually I might go have a nap. Probably won't but I'll try.

**Author's Note:**

> whoops did I slip in an aos character for basically no reason
> 
> Tumblr ate this post and it doesn't want to be in the tag so come say hi to me @mjonesing


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